


Testing The Waters

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Accidents, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anger, Challenges, Curiosity, Dare, Existential Angst, Frustration, Hatred, Injury Recovery, Insults, Light Sadism, Major Character Injury, Medical Trauma, Mid-Canon, Mocking, Multiple Selves, Parkour, Questioning, Sabotage, Skateboarding, Sneaking Around, Sneaking Out, Stalking, Surprises, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Violence, treatment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 12:29:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13764207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: Rising tensions, a challenge, and a violent accident force Bing to reevaluate his feelings toward Google.





	Testing The Waters

Everything had happened quickly, as all accidents did. When Bing saw Google slip quietly out of Egos Central, his insatiable curiosity had sparked. Bing had only been manifested a short time ago, but he had seen enough to know that the older Ego wasn’t particularly stealthy on a normal day, so perhaps this was _abnormal_. None of the others had seen him leave, so, being the go-getter that he was, Bing had flipped his skateboard onto its wheels with the toe of his shoe and followed.

By his standards, he was being an absolute _ninja_ —walking like an animal, flowing with the terrain, controlling his breathing and whirring, all the tips Wikihow could supply him with. Even so, he had only been following Google for about fifteen minutes before the blue-clad android turned on his heel and _snarled_ at him, bared teeth and all. Bing yelped out a sharp, censored curse, scrambling to backpedal.

“Are you finished making a fool of yourself yet?” Google spat, bristling with a threatening whirr and staring down his nose at Bing, who scuffed his free foot against the pavement and jammed his hands into his pockets.

“Well, are you?” he shot back. It wasn’t the best comeback he’d ever had, but he had to stick with it. “Sneakin’ out of Egos Central like you’re goin’ all stealth mode—it didn’t work, by the way—and I followed you for a good long while before you noticed!”

“I heard you the second you closed the door behind you. Even if you had managed to close it without my notice, the wheels of your _skateboard_ gave you away,” Google deadpanned, his voice dripping derision.

“…Oh.” After a moment of awkward silence, Bing perked up, pushing his sunglasses higher up his nose as he noticed where they were. “Would you look at that? Come here, old bot, and I’ll show you what my radical board is _good_ for!” With that, he had picked up his skateboard and was dragging Google by the collar toward the gate leading into the park. The only way he managed to wrangle Google inside was because he had taken him by surprise, but judging by the swipe at his arm, which Bing narrowly dodged, he released him just in time to avoid a few broken fingers.

“What are you doing?” Google demanded as Bing strode proudly toward the pond.

“I’ll bet ya I can get up the speed to hop the pond on the first try!” he announced, to which Google shifted his weight back, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“I’ll bet you that you’ll hit a cleft in the ground, fall, and break your neck before you get there,” he huffed. “I don’t have time to indulge you and your stunts.” As he spun to leave, Bing’s smirk fled and he tossed his skateboard onto the ground.

“I’ll prove you wrong! If I do it, you tell me what kind of mission you’re doing on the D.L.! If I can’t clear it, well, I’ll go home and I won’t keep riding you.” Google ignored him as he moved back toward the gate, so Bing scowled further, doubling his fists. “What’s wrong, Rusty? You scared of a bet?!”

That stopped him dead in his tracks. He stood motionless for several seconds, trembled slightly—no doubt in rage—and then lifted his head. When he pivoted and reapproached, his face was an expressionless mask, but his naturally brown eyes were burning with blue. He said nothing as he shouldered past Bing, kicking the skateboard to the side in the process, before planting himself by the edge of the pond.

“Well?” he snapped, gesturing expectantly at the surface of the water, which sparkled and danced in the sunlight. “I’m waiting.”

“Don’t get your gears in a crunch.” That said, Bing readjusted his skateboard, planting his foot squarely and leaning back on his other heel, squinting at the water, trying to gauge just how much power he had to put into his jump. He wasn’t the best at math, but he figured the same amount of push he put into getting halfway down the stairs would be enough!

Google was tapping his foot now, Bing noted, eyes narrowing further, his core tightening in his chest.

This was going to be easy—just a simple jump. If he was feeling sassy mid-jump, maybe he’d put a little flip into the board, just to rub it in Google’s face that much more. He was gonna show him. He was gonna humiliate him. The mental image of the shock on Google’s face when he cleared the pond was _so, so sweet_. Bing craved it, now more than ever.  

He could feel the power at his disposal as soon as he pushed off; it was going to be more than enough. He could already feel the elation, the pride, the validation, the reward—

As soon as the board’s front wheels left the ground, however, an iron grip snagged Bing’s arm, hauling him out of the air and sending him flying the opposite direction. He hit the grass with a startled grunt and rolled a few feet, lying stunned for a moment before pushing upright and staring in disbelief up at Google, who stood holding up his skateboard by two fingers. He waved it tauntingly.

“What the…? You—!” Bing’s next several words were censored by his Safe Search as he scrambled furiously to his feet. “ _What’s your problem?!_ That was a perfect shot!”

“I guess not,” Google sighed, feigning sympathy, but the size of his grin betrayed it. “And since the bet was that you clear the pond on the _first try_ —and you didn’t—I guess you have to slink on home. You never said I couldn’t interfere. Now let me get on with my work. _You_ should work on your jumps.” That said, he set the skateboard down and idly nudged it with his foot. Bing watched, openmouthed, as it rolled slowly over to him, and then glanced up at Google, who was walking back toward the path without a care in the world.

 _No_.

Hands found board, feet found purchase, arms found air, and he swung as hard as he could, screaming something unintelligible. The crack as the skateboard connected with Google’s head was much louder to his ears but even that was drowned out as the older Ego was thrown back and splashed thunderously into the pond.

As soon as he struck, Google sparked, contorted and screamed—a horrifying, garbled, high-pitched wail of agony that Bing never wanted to hear again. He stumbled back as Google flailed and floundered, electricity spewing out of his chest for several long seconds. As it died down, so did his struggle, his scrambling slowing to defective twitches and his screams petering out into a low, crackling whine. Even that fell silent after another few moments and there he lay, stiff and smoking.

 _No_ …

_No, no, no, no—_

The skateboard, the deadly weapon, fell with a clatter, completely abandoned as Bing sprinted to the edge of the pond, gasping as he leaned to reach out and then flinched back. The water—if he reached in—Wait—The tip of Google’s shoe was just poking up out of the perilous pool. Thinking fast, Bing snatched at it as best he could, dragging Google’s dripping leg up with it as soon as he latched on properly. The rest of his waterlogged frame followed and it was only when he was lying unconscious on the shore that Bing felt free to panic.

“Google—Google, I didn’t mean to—oh, man, oh, man, what’ve I—? Oh, man—” Gripping Google’s shoulders, he shook him a little, pleading nervously, “C-C’mon, wake up, you gotta—” What was it they always did on the shows? Check for a pulse… Gnawing frantically on his lower lip, Bing pulled on Google’s sopping wet shirt, sliding a few tentative fingers under it toward his core, probing.

 _What if I’ve killed him?! I didn’t mean to kill him—If Dark finds out I’ve killed him, he’ll tear my head off without a second thought! The Host will erase me from history!_ A sudden spark sent a jolt up his arm, startling him out of his agonizing thoughts, and he didn’t waste any more time, shoving his hand into the rim of Google’s core, hooking his fingers on the wiring. His skin tingled as soon as he made contact and then he could sense it: electricity.

“There’s still time!” he burst out, glancing up at Google’s pale face with a near-sob of relief. Instinctively he brushed at the wet strands of hair, hissing through his teeth as he saw the sizeable gash his skateboard had made in Google’s forehead. “You’re good, you’re gonna be fine—the doc can fix you! I just gotta get ya there! S-Sorry—” Scooping Google into his arms, gritting his teeth against the dead weight, he ran. 

* * *

 

“The, uh, the old fart’s gonna be okay, right, doc?” Bing ventured as Dr. Iplier emerged from his lab. “You were in there for a century and a half…”

“You didn’t expect me to rush, did you?” Dr. Iplier huffed. “He was dying. Frankly, I’m surprised he didn’t die as soon as he hit the water. If he was anyone else, even any of the duplicate Googles, I’m pretty certain he would’ve Faded right in front of you.”

Something distinctly uncomfortable tightened in Bing’s throat and his chest. He swallowed around it and took a deep breath. “But he’s gonna be up and at ’em soon?”

“Once his self-repair systems can work on their own again, yes. You can go see for yourself, if you’d like,” the doctor offered, nodding toward the door.

Facing Google was frankly the last thing he wanted to do, but Bing had pride to account for. He had to act guiltless. After all, he’d told Dr. Iplier that Google had tripped into the water, not that he’d been pushed, so…no one had to know about his guilt. If he avoided Google because of it, though, he was sure to tattle to Dark as soon as he was back on his feet. If he visited him, however, Google may keep it between them and treat it like another private reason to hate him.

“Are you going or staying?” Dr. Iplier prompted, recapturing his attention.

“Uhh, staying,” he blurted out, rising. “Thanks, doc. You’re the man.” With that, he pushed the door open, shuffling slowly toward the medical bed. On the bedside table, he could see Google’s glasses, the frames warped and the lenses cracked, and something about it made his stomach turn. Even so, his eyes couldn’t resist drifting to the glasses’ owner. He expected Google to open his eyes and look at him, his gaze filled with loathing and fury, but they stayed closed.

He looked… _vulnerable_ like this, Bing realized in disbelief, moving around the bed and sinking onto the edge of the nearby stool. His face was still unnaturally pale and the circuitry visible through the gash in his forehead flickered faintly, working to repair the damage from within. Now that he was paying attention, Bing could see the denting along his forehead and jawline, leading to his parted lips and the thin tube between them, draining excess water out of his throat and into a bag.

 _Did the doc actually use a_ catheter _on his throat?_ Bing wondered, a weak laugh finding its way out of his own throat, but it died halfway. There were drains plugged into his core too, the places Bing himself had searched for any sign of life. His hands tightened between his knees.

“You owe me big time, y’know that?” he muttered. “I could’ve…I could’ve just let you die. Fade. Right in front of me. I bet you would’ve if it’d been _me_ , right, man?” His thoughts turned back to the moment when Google grabbed his arm, wrenching him away from the water. But that had been to humiliate him, hadn’t it? He’d done that just to “interfere”…hadn’t he? What if he hadn’t?

Google was pompous and sadistic and selfish. He hadn’t done it to _save_ him! He did it because…he wanted to kill Bing himself, on his own terms and timeline. He wouldn’t let him die to his own stunt.

But didn’t that mean he _had_ saved him, even if it was for the wrong reasons?

“Why do you have to be such a—? Ugh, I hate you…” Running a hand frustratedly through his hair, Bing glanced down at the floor and then back at Google. “I hate you,” he repeated, more slowly…testingly.

“I hate you.”

How did it feel, saying it to his face?

“I hate you. I hate you.”

The more he repeated it…the better it felt. He sat up straighter, looking Google up and down.

“I hate you.”

He wasn’t so tough.

“I hate you.”

A little water had stopped the big, bad Google dead. He would’ve died right there.

“I _hate_ you.”

He remembered Google’s smile as he taunted him, waving his skateboard. He had left his skateboard behind for him! The anger returned then, stirring keenly in his chest.

“I hate you. I hate you.”

The anger felt…good. Refreshing. Really, _really_ good, he realized, a surprised smile tugging at his lips. Is this how Google felt towards him all the time?

Why hadn’t he let himself feel this sooner?

“I— _hate_ —you,” he hissed, leaning in close, elated by the fact that Google couldn’t do anything to push him back. “ _So…so…much_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well, okay then! That ended more ominously than I thought it would... O_o  
> Even so, I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave a kudos or a comment to tell me what you thought! I'd love to hear from you.


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